


You're Not Supposed To Burn The Sushi, Sensei

by LeFezWearingHusky



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Attempted Suicide, Depression, Eventual Sex, Eventual relationship, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Some humour, Teacher England, Teacher-Student Relationship, mostly angst though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-01 03:21:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12147534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeFezWearingHusky/pseuds/LeFezWearingHusky
Summary: As Kiku Honda enters his third and final year of high school, he does so with low expectations. He can already see how it will end - with a grade F tacked to his final exam, followed shortly by his parents’ disappointed remarks and a lifetime of chasing subpar job prospects.But then, something truly unexpected happens when an eccentric Western man enters the classroom, introducing himself as Arthur Kirkland, the new English teacher. And Kiku soon ends up confronting feelings that he never suspected he’d ever have.[Human AU//Teacher x Student//AsaKiku]





	1. Third-Years' Luck

**Author's Note:**

> So I've finally decided to start writing for this ship again! (To those of you who read Another Time, you have my profound apologies for the rest of eternity, and I hope this will compensate in some way.)  
> This version is actually a rewrite of something I wrote almost a year ago now, but I've been wanting to write this scenario for ages. And maybe, just maybe, this time I'll actually complet- no, no, actually, I shouldn't even say that, it'll just lead to trouble. In any case.  
> If you've read the summary and the tags, then you've probably got a good idea of what you're going in for. In case you haven't, then I'll give you fair warning: there will be references to depression, self-harm, suicidal thoughts and also attempted suicide (though I won't spoil the details). There will also be some eventual smut, hence the M rating - there will be a slow build up to it, however, so just bear with me for the time being! (Also, speaking of which, I'll just make it clear here that, from a personal perspective, I only consider sex under the age of 16 to be underage, so this fic is not labelled as such. For context, Kiku is 17 in the story, and Arthur is around 25. Just to let you know.)  
> Another thing I should probably mention is that I'm no expert on Japanese high schools - this portrayal is based mostly on tidbits I've picked up from various places on the Internet as well as slice-of-life high school anime. So any criticism in that regard is very much welcome - though I am, of course, accepting of any and all constructive criticism.  
> Well, I won't bore you any further. Let's just get on with the story, shall we?

**[1st April, 201X]**

 

Rosy petals scattered in an azure sky overhead before falling as botanic snow. They carpeted the pavement, the road, the roofs of stationary cars.

 

Kiku Honda thought that there was more than usual this year - perhaps that was a side-effect of global warming. Still, the amount didn’t matter. The sight didn’t fill him with hope for the new year or make him reflect on the impermanence of all things. It only served to remind him of how useless and flimsy everything was.

 

Kiku stepped aside on the pavement as a girl with pigtails flew past - her speed could probably rival that of professional sprinter. _Undoubtedly a first-year,_ Kiku observed. They were always terrified of being late on the first day. He knew; he’d been in the exact same position once upon a time.

 

It felt now as though it had occurred in a different universe.

 

“Kiku! Hey, Kiku, wait up!” The breathless yell was accompanied by the frantic slamming of boots against the incline of the pavement.

 

Kiku turned to see his best - and only - friend, Ryouichi Yukimura, leaning against the iron bars of the school fence and panting in a semi-dramatic fashion. His brown hair was even more disheveled than usual, and his school tie was askew. Kiku waited for the other boy to catch his breath.

 

“Don’t you check your texts anymore?” Ryouichi wheezed. “I said I was going to pass by your house so we could walk to school together, but you’d already left by the time I arrived!”

 

“Ah…” Kiku scratched the back of his head, averting his gaze. “I guess I was in a hurry… Sorry, Ryou.” He hoped that the other would buy into that notion, as the last thing he wanted was to get into a conversation surrounding the _real_ reason for his absence.

 

Ryouichi frowned, unconvinced, but didn’t press the issue. Instead, he simply sighed. “Well, whatever. With any luck, we’ll be in the same class again this year!” He fell happily in line beside Kiku. “Anyway, I really missed you over the holidays. What did you get up to?”

 

“Nothing interesting,” Kiku replied quickly.

 

Ryouichi got the message. “Ah. Oh well. Still, it’s a new year, right?” He elbowed Kiku playfully. “And it’s our last one, so we’d better enjoy it! Cheer up.”

 

 _I would if it were that simple,_ Kiku didn’t say.

 

“What about that prestigious culinary school you wanted to get into?” Kiku asked instead, hoping to change the subject. “Did you already apply?”

 

Ryouichi nodded. “Yup! I mean, I probably won’t get in, but it’s better to shoot for the stars than settle for second-best, right?”

 

“I suppose,” Kiku replied noncommittally.

 

As they crested the hill, the gates were swarming with students, the level of activity and bustle akin to the entrance of a beehive. After making it through a confused cluster of first-years, the pair stepped into the locker room.

 

Kiku made the familiar turning into the aisle where both his and Ryouichi’s indoor shoes were kept, but paused when he noticed that the other had stopped dead in his tracks, an utterly flabbergasted expression on his face.

 

“Niko-kun!? You’re back!” Ryouichi exclaimed.

 

A boy Kiku vaguely recognised raised his head, having just pulled on his indoor shoes. He carried the distinct look of someone who was clearly out of place - part of that being his obvious baby face and short height compared to the other students (including the girls).

 

Itsuki Nikoniko was an anomaly. Even someone as out of the loop as Kiku had heard all manner of gossip surrounding him. He was a third year despite being barely fifteen - allegedly, he was so smart that he’d been able to skip the last two years of middle school. But that wasn’t even the strangest thing about him. In the last few weeks of their second year, he’d gone suddenly and inexplicably missing.

 

In response to Ryouichi’s outburst, Nikoniko straightened and responded with a polite smile. “Oh, good morning, Yukimura-senpai and Honda-senpai.”

 

But a formal greeting was not enough to stop Ryouichi’s barrel rolling. “What the hell happened to you?!”

 

At this point, other students were beginning to crowd the area, and Kiku felt a familiar wave of slight nausea.

 

Nikoniko chose that moment to take a sudden interest in his locker. “I decided to skip school for a while and get a job at an onsen in Nihonmatsu,” he replied, utterly matter-of-fact, as though that one line explained everything.

 

“Doesn’t… doesn’t that just make you a dropout?” Ryouichi staggered. “How come you were able to come back?”

 

“We’re going to be late, Ryou,” Kiku muttered, pulling his friend’s arm away from the growing number of eyes surrounding them on each side. “It doesn’t matter, okay?”

 

Ryouichi relented, grumbling, but not before Nikoniko had time to flash the pair of them an awkward smile and scurry away rapidly.

 

“Seriously, what a weirdo,” Ryouichi continued as they fetched their shoes from their respective lockers. “And why the hell is he so popular? I could forgive him if he wasn’t, but… it’s like he’s able to bend the laws of the universe around him. Like he’s the main character of an anime or something.”

 

Kiku could only shrug in response to that.

 

In the hallway outside, the third-year classroom allocations were displayed on a billboard that clearly wasn’t large enough to accommodate the needs of all involved. And so, it was only following an entire minute of jostling amongst about fifty or so other sweaty seventeen-year-olds that Ryouichi was able to step up to the board proper, wringing his hands with excitement.

 

“I’m in Class 3-G,” he stated approvingly. “And my homeroom teacher is Mitsukawa-sensei? Not bad at all!” His face fell as he glanced further down the list. “Damn, I celebrated too early - you aren’t in my class, and I have to put up with Niko instead.” He folded his arms indignantly. “Damn little teacher’s pet.”

 

“It could be worse,” Kiku commented. “At least you aren’t in the same class as that yakuza kid again.”

 

“He wasn’t a yakuza kid, he just acted tough,” Ryouichi snorted. “And that tattoo on his back was definitely fake. Besides…”

 

As Ryouichi continued ranting about how and why the school would never allow a student who was actually the son of an internationally feared yakuza boss attend, Kiku continued to scan the billboard for his own name. “Class 3-H,” he muttered. “So I’m just next door to you.”

 

“Not too bad, I suppose. I’ll just text you under the table whenever Niko does something obnoxious,” Ryouichi resolved, smirking. “Anyway, who are you with?”

 

After Kiku had finished subtly rolling his eyes, he turned back to the list. There were only the names of people he was vaguely acquainted with - except for one.

 

“Yongsoo Im,” Kiku read out loud. “Is that… Korean?”

 

“Seems like it.” Ryouichi pointed to the name, which was depicted somewhat extravagantly in both kanji characters and Hangul.

 

“A foreign exchange student…?” Kiku mused.

 

“Must be. I’m sure we would’ve heard of a Korean student in the school before now, right?”

 

“I guess…”

 

Their conversation at that point was cut through cleanly by the four-tone of the school bell, and both boys immediately jumped to action.

 

“See you at lunchtime, Kiku!” Ryouichi hollered as he bounded down the hallway towards the stairs. “Don’t forget to check your phone this time, okay?”

 

Kiku resisted the urge to roll his eyes once again as he followed. _Your classroom is next to mine, so why are you saying goodbye now?_

 

The stairs at this time were more or less empty, so belting up them two at a time was easy. That was, until, somewhere between the first floor and the second, Kiku rounded a corner and collided with something hard and solid.

 

The force of the impact sent Kiku reeling backwards onto his bum, and he was only just able to catch the stair rail in time to prevent himself from falling any further.

 

The next thing he registered was paper - loose print-outs and leaked folders scattered across the stairwell. And sprawled amongst them was the man Kiku had smacked right into.

 

Kiku blinked in surprise - for the most notable thing about this man was that he was clearly not Japanese. A thick, wild mop of dark blond hair fell into piercing green eyes that stood out against the pale peach tone of his skin. He was dressed in a fairly standard suit typical of a high school teacher, except the tie and the blazer were a similar tone of green to his eyes.

 

The combination of the intense colouration of his eyes and his almost ridiculously bushy blond eyebrows made his expression seem absolutely severe. In that split second, Kiku had no idea whether he should say something, or just run away as fast as he could.

 

But before he could make that decision, the blond man uttered two words - words that Kiku vaguely recognised as English.

 

_“Fucking hell.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few notes for this chapter:  
> -Ryouichi Yukimura is the name I've given Osaka (so no, he's not an OC, in case you were wondering). And - though this is probably more obvious - Itsuki Nikoniko is Nikoniko.  
> -You might already know this but the Japanese academic year begins in April. This is because of the fact that springtime is symbolically associated with new beginnings.  
> -Since the story will be mainly told from Kiku's POV, speech in italics will indicate whenever somebody *isn't* speaking Japanese. I'm planning for chapters from Arthur's POV later, but the same will still apply.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading all of this first chapter and I hope you enjoyed it! Hopefully you'll be willing to follow this all the way through to the end with me.~


	2. A Clash of Egos

As the foreign man began to pick himself up from where he had fallen, Kiku slowly came to his senses.

 

 _“I-I am… very… sorry,”_ he muttered hesitantly in English.

 

The blond began to scrape together the fallen print-outs strewn around him. “Don’t worry about it for now,” he replied in near-flawless Japanese. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

 

After a short pause, Kiku nodded slowly. Then he shifted onto his knees and began picking up the spilled print-outs closest to him.

 

He froze when he noticed the older man glaring at him. “You can stop that. Just hurry and get to class before you’re late.” The line was spoken like an order from an irritable drill sergeant.

 

Kiku nodded vigorously and swept up the staircase before any further interaction could take place. He didn’t even realise he was out of breath until he stopped outside his classroom.

 

He slid the door open, sighing gratefully. He’d never been happier to have entered a classroom in his life. And, miraculously, his homeroom teacher hadn’t arrived yet, meaning it was a simple matter for him to find his designated seat and blend in amongst the other students, who were chattering animatedly within their own cliques. Kiku had always found it easier when no-one decided to pay any attention to him.

 

And it remained that way for the rest of homeroom, which seemed, as usual, to go on for far longer than it needed to, and the teacher’s monotonous drone didn’t exactly help in that matter. Kiku spent most of the time simply staring aimlessly out at the pavement four storeys below whilst trying and failing to forget his lingering embarrassment from the encounter on the stairs.

 

Homeroom ended in the same unceremonious way it had started, giving way to a completely forgettable hour of History, which Kiku spent much of intermittently staring at the mustachioed portrait of Hirobumi Ito in his textbook.

 

Once that was over, Kiku pulled out his new timetable from his workbook. English - his worst subject - was next.

 

The students milled amongst themselves during the interval. All except Kiku, of course, who instead sat listening to each conversation with mild interest.

 

One girl piped up suddenly from two seats across on the same row. “Hey, did you hear about that Korean exchange student who’s meant to be entering our class?”

 

The boy she’d been addressing shrugged. “Seems like they aren’t here yet though.”

 

“I think I’ve heard of him before,” another girl interjected, and everyone in the immediate vicinity turned towards her. “My dad went on a business trip with his boss to Korea, and that’s where he met them - the Im family, I mean,” she clarified. “Apparently they’re the owners of a massive industrial corporation.”

 

There was a collective sound of awe before the first girl replied. “How do you know he isn’t some other Im, though?”

 

“Well… I don’t know. I just thought there was something familiar about his name…”

 

At that point, all conversations in the room abruptly ceased as the door slid back and a teacher entered. Instead of the usual pandemonium in which students rushed back to their seats and pretended to be on their best behaviour, they froze completely, looking on in subdued fascination at the teacher in question.

 

Kiku turned his attention towards where the others were staring - and broke out in a cold sweat the moment he noticed the messy mop of blond hair.

 

 _Oh, no… he isn’t our new English teacher, is he…?_ Kiku could not think of any worse timing. Still, perhaps if he kept his head down and remained inconspicuous… perhaps… perhaps the teacher wouldn’t notice him at all.

 

The blond dumped a thick wad of printout atop the front desk before turning his bizarre eyes onto his class. He seemed somewhat taken aback for a second, but that expression swiftly vanished with a wave of his hand. “Stop sitting around gawking. There are much more fascinating things in this universe to stare at - like your textbooks, for example,” he grumbled. “Class has already begun - didn’t you hear the bell?”

 

The students glanced at each other; seemingly, they’d been too engrossed in the conversation about the new student to hear it. They reluctantly scurried back into their seating plan, and the students promptly performed their usual bowing routine to signal the beginning of class. Kiku kept his head tucked under his chin throughout, just in case the teacher should happen to glance his way.

 

“Alright then,” the teacher announced as they finished, his arms folded imperiously across his chest. “As you have probably already noticed, I’m the new English teacher. My name is -” he paused to scrawl his name in both English and katakana on the top right of the blackboard “- Arthur Kirkland. If that’s too difficult, then you can simply call me Sensei, just as you would any other teacher.”

 

A girl, somewhere in the middle row, shot her hand up.

 

“...Yes?” Kirkland responded after a short pause, his thick eyebrows cocked impatiently.

 

“Sensei, where are you from?”

 

A prideful smile touched Kirkland’s features. “A rainy isle far to the west of here - I suppose you could say. You may know it as England. Which is why -” he gestured back to the blackboard “- I will be teaching you _proper_ English, not some absurd watered-down American dialect.” He pronounced the word _American_ as though it were a disgusting morsel of food stuck in his teeth.

 

There was a pause mainly filled with students glancing between themselves, and a few barely audible murmurs at the back. Then, another hand shot up. This time, the owner started speaking even before Kirkland gave the go-ahead.

 

“Which House are you in, Sensei?”

 

Kirkland stared at her for a second, contemplative,before he straightened and stated, “Slytherin, of course,” as though the answer was apparently obvious.

 

And at that point, the room exploded into a cacophony of debate.

 

“Ha! Told you so!” a boy at the back crowed.

 

“He totally looks like Draco,” observed a girl diagonally across from Kiku.

 

“What? No… I think he looks more like that guy from _Sherlock…_ ” another piped up.

 

“Which one? John Watson?” From somewhere in the middle.

 

“Yeah, him.”

 

“Wasn’t he, like, a hobbit or something?” someone on the front row interjected, unconvinced.

 

“BE QUIET!” Kirkland’s voice rang out across the four walls of the classroom. In the silence that followed, you could hear a pigeon’s wingbeats as it flapped past the window.

 

“Might I remind you that you are all here to learn some English, not to discuss whether I look like Martin Freeman or not?” Kirkland’s volume had dropped, but his tone remained just as intense as before.

 

Whilst the rest of the class exchanged sheepish glances, Kiku noticed that in spite of Kirkland’s display of irritation, his eyes seemed wavering and uncertain. This was only apparent for a short moment, however, before he straightened, clearing his throat insistently.

 

“In any case,” Kirkland continued in a tone characteristic of a person who was trying and failing to forget what had just occurred, “I’m going to need all of your names at some point, so I think it would be a good idea if you all went around and introduced yourselves. So state your name and… where you would ideally see yourself in five years’ time.”

 

Kiku slumped. Of all the questions he could possibly have asked, this strange new teacher had decided to go for the one Kiku really had no answer to. Because, despite having an increasingly clear idea of where he was headed currently, Kiku didn’t really know for certain which direction he _wanted_ to take.

 

Anything, he supposed, would be better than the stream he was currently surging towards - which dropped off into an abyss of nothingness.

 

The first girl, Mariko Eno, stepped out of her seat with a flourish. She was known for being proficient in just about everything - with the notable exception of controlling her temper. Still, she remained completely self-assured as she stated that in five years she was going to be living the high life as a billionaire in Roppongi Hills after touring the world with her hypothetical idol group.

 

Kirkland nodded in response. “Well, being rich and famous is a fine thing to aspire to - that is, if you don’t particularly mind becoming a puppet of the media.”

 

Eno looked stricken. “Wh-what does that mean?”

 

But Kirkland had already called up the next student, forcing Eno to sit back down in frustration. Her neighbours looked the other way, not wanting to be on the receiving end of her wrath.

 

From then on, each student individually stepped out of their seats to introduce themselves, followed by either awestruck mutterings, laughter or a sarcastic comment from Kirkland - though none as blatantly demeaning as his response to Eno.

 

One student wanted to be serialised in _Weekly Shounen Jump._ Another aspired to study in Australia, and still more sought to work at the Hadron Collider in Europe, or even travel to the moon. It was the sort of far-flung idealism that Kiku had always distanced himself from - because he knew, deep down, that it would be pointless even thinking about it.

 

“Honda-san.” The voice was distant yet insistent, and it was only when he felt the familiar jarring sensation of a heel ramming into the back of his seat that it fully sunk in.

 

Kiku shot bolt upright in his urgency, earning a few scattered giggles. He felt his cheeks blazing as he attempted to save face as much as he could.

 

“I-I’m Kiku Honda,” he managed. “And I, um…”

 

Before he had the chance to scramble for something that satisfied the middle ground between utterly dull and sheer ridiculousness, one of his classmates filled in for him.

 

“Honda’s gonna be a proper NEET in five years, Sensei.” It was undoubtedly Eno, even if her usual carefree, trilling voice was now harsh and bitter. “He was absent for an entire week last year just because he couldn’t stop playing video games.”

 

Kiku almost didn’t hear the ensuing raucous laughter of Eno’s friend group and Kirkland’s ineffectual calls for silence - it was probably better that way. Better to just stare at his desk and pretend nothing else existed.

 

At that point, however, the door clattered open with such force that nobody could resist turning their eyes towards it. _“Annyeonghaseyo!”_

 

Standing in the doorway was a boy with a cheerful smile and a ridiculous, gravity-defying curl bouncing atop his coppery hair. He was decked out in designer jeans and a white T-shirt with something illegible scrawled across it - Kiku thought it was English, but he couldn’t really tell. The letters were distorted, as though drawn on in runny ink pen.

 

Kirkland glanced momentarily at the student register before him before turning on the new arrival. “Could you possibly be Yongsoo Im, the exchange student?”

 

Im nodded vigorously. “That’s me! Although -” he gestured dramatically at the rest of the class “- you can all call me your very own Onii-san!”

 

There was a collective groan across the room as each student came to the immediate realisation of _Oh, crap, he’s an obsessive otaku._ Kiku, meanwhile, used this as a welcome cover to return swiftly to his previous inconspicuous state.

 

Kirkland sat back in his chair, his arms folded as the class continued to look on in eager anticipation. “So, what’s the story here, then? Did your uniform get stuck in the washing machine, perhaps?”

 

Im pouted. “Why should I have to dress the same as everyone else? It really cramps my style,” he grumbled.

 

Kirkland’s next words were spoken with tension, as though he was trying desperately not to sigh in exasperation. “Well, that appears to be a matter for debate. But in any case, how did you end up arriving more than an hour late to school? I’d love to hear that story.”

 

“It was the road signs!” Im protested. “I couldn’t read them to find my way here - I mean, how is anyone supposed to know how to read kanji anyway?”

 

“I certainly haven’t heard that one before.” At this point, Kirkland had gone beyond exasperation and now seemed even vaguely amused. “So although you get points for originality, might I ask this: How is it that someone like me, who is in no way near fluent in reading kanji, can still, as if by magic, find their way here on time _without_ being stumped by the road signs?”

 

Im clearly didn’t have an answer to that, so he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans in a passive-aggressive expression of defiance and sauntered over to the last available desk, which just so happened to be right next to Kiku’s. As the exchange student plonked himself down, Kiku blinked, wondering how he’d missed the fact that the desk beside him had been empty all this time.

 

“Right,” Kirkland began, brushing his long fringe back from his face in a last-ditch attempt to calm himself, “let’s get down to business and learn some English, shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, here we go:  
> -So yeah, Im's going to be a member of the supporting cast in this fic. I'm honestly uncertain how faithful to canon I should be, here, considering how the actual character is... But he's just a regular human in this fic, not representing a country, and in later chapters there will be some further exploration of his character to hopefully make him a bit more relatable. And if you still take issue with how he's portrayed here for any reason, then feel free to let me know.  
> -Hirobumi Ito, aka Moustache Man, was a prominent politician during the Meiji era. I'm no expert, but from what I've heard he was one of the biggest big cheeses of his time. As part of his quest to modernise Japan, he also attended university in London.
> 
> ...And that's about it, really. Hope you enjoyed~


	3. The Favour

And so, for the rest of the allotted hour, the class descended into a state of relative calm. Aside from a couple of asinine comments from Im, the procedure went smoothly and within five minutes Kirkland had tasked them all to write a paragraph about their daily routines, which he said he was going to use as a preliminary assessment to gauge where they all were in terms of skill.

 

Kiku glanced down at his own. He knew there was something wrong with it, but no matter how much he flicked idly through the heavy dictionary or prodded the next empty line with his pen tip, no conclusion presented itself.

 

He was so deep in thought that he almost jolted when a shadow passed over his workbook. Kiku glanced up at his teacher, managing a small smile.

 

“Is everything all right here, Honda?” Kirkland asked. Kiku noted the way the blond didn’t quite meet his gaze.

 

“Fine… I just…”

 

Kirkland leaned over Kiku’s shoulder for a closer glance at his workbook. As he did so, Kiku realised that the blond was a lot younger than he had initially appeared - the vestiges of teenage acne were visible on his cheeks, and his eyes contained a youthful uncertainty that was unnoticeable from afar.

 

“Ah,” Kirkland murmured, a finger brushing the light stubble that covered his jaw. “I think I see the problem. You see this sentence, here.” He pointed to a line which read “ _My dog, who is Pochi, and I go walk in a park.”_

 

“It makes sense, technically, but a more natural way of saying it would be ‘ _I take my dog, Pochi, for a walk in the park’.”_ Kirkland wrote the sentence in beneath the paragraph.

 

Kiku swallowed. “Th-thank you, Sensei,” he muttered in English.

 

Kirkland smiled. “Very good,” he replied as he walked away, leaving Kiku with his heart jumping in his chest like an overexcited rabbit.

 

*****

 

After the bell finally rang, signalling the start of lunchtime, Kiku’s classmates practically bounded out of the room the moment they were given the go signal. He knew that, the moment they got beyond the door, they would immediately start discussing the strange new English teacher who had appeared spontaneously out of nowhere.

 

However, just prior to the end of class, Kirkland had ordered Kiku, Im and Eno to stay behind, and so he remained reluctantly seated. Beside him, Im had ostentatiously put his feet up on the desk and was sucking the inside of his cheek as though it were a piece of chewing gum. Ensconced on the opposite side of the room, Eno had turned herself away from the two boys and was staring angrily at the wall.

 

As soon as everyone else had left and Kirkland had finished wiping the board clean, the blond turned first towards Eno.

 

“Eno…” The teacher exhaled heavily. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier - it wasn’t warranted at the time and I had no place saying it. But still, it doesn’t excuse your own behaviour. If you just apologise to Honda now, you can leave and we’ll all just forget about it. Okay?”

 

“Sorry, Honda,” Eno grunted half-heartedly in Kiku’s general direction before scraping back her chair and stalking out of the room without another word.

 

Kirkland shook his head as she left but seemed content to leave it at that. He immediately turned to Im, who was still making sucking noises.

 

“Stop doing that, Im. You’re seventeen, not seven.”

 

“Sure thing, _Seonsaeng_ ,” Im replied, only to continue as though Kirkland had never spoken.

 

“We’ve been through this. Here, it’s _Sensei.”_

 

“I know, _Seonsaeng_. I just prefer my way.”

 

Kiku was wondering if he could slip out silently in the middle of this without either of them noticing, but at that point Kirkland marched over and slammed his fist into Im’s desk. Im stopped, only to glance up at the teacher, his eyebrows cocked pugnaciously.

 

“I’m willing to forgive you, considering that this is your first day, but if you don’t turn up tomorrow in full uniform at 9:00am _exactly_ then I will be informing your parents in full detail of each of your little endeavours.”

 

Im smirked. “What are my parents gonna do? They’re in Seoul right now, and way too busy to worry about anything to do with me.”

 

A flash of irritation crossed Kirkland’s face as he prepared his next rebuttal. “That may be so. But in English, there’s a saying: ‘When in Rome, do as the Romans do’. And though we may be in Tokyo, the same principles apply. Pretending you’re any different from the person next to you isn’t going to fetch you any friends, believe me.”

 

Im chortled aloud at that. “ _Seonsaeng_ , you are _such_ a hypocrite.”

 

Kirkland looked momentarily taken aback. “Wh-what did you say?!”

 

Im ignored him as he pushed back his seat and swiftly made his way towards the door. _“Najung-e boja, Seonsaeng,”_ he trilled as he left.

 

“I didn’t say you could leave!” Kirkland yelled after him, but only succeeded in getting a confused stare from a couple of girls walking past in the hallway. He slapped a hand to his face with a sigh, leaning back against his desk.

 

 _“Bloody cheek,”_ he muttered in English.

 

Silence followed. Kiku shifted uncomfortably, wondering if he should say something.

 

“Um… Sensei?” he managed after more than a minute had passed.

 

Kirkland released yet another sigh as he rubbed his face, before finally turning to Kiku, his eyes suddenly exhausted. “Is everything going okay at home, Honda?” he asked.

 

“Yes,” Kiku responded. It was a rehearsed reaction. “Why do you ask?”

 

“Well.” Kirkland half-turned away, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s just that Eno said something about you being absent for an entire week… Sorry. I don’t mean to intrude, I just wanted to make sure…”

 

“It’s alright.” Kiku looked down at his hands, which were clasped in front of him on the desk. “That week… was when my grandfather had a heart attack. It was so sudden, we didn’t have any time to inform the school about it. He… he’s okay now, but at the time it really did look like he was just going to… fade away.” He paused. “His hospital was in Gifu, so we ended up having to stay for the week. We wanted to be there in his final moments, just in case.”

 

It was almost surprising how easily he could lie, now. But enough people had asked since the event, it had become purely routine.

 

It frightened him.

 

“Oh, God.” There was genuine guilt in Kirkland’s eyes - that way Kiku knew for certain that he had bought it. “That… I’m really sorry to hear that.”

 

“It’s my fault really. I should’ve just informed the school when I had the chance…”

 

“No… No one’s to blame for that situation. Least of all yourself,” Kirkland replied, shaking his head.

 

Silence once again descended between them, and Kiku was about to take this as his cue to leave when Kirkland suddenly spoke up.

 

“Honda…” He hesitated as he spoke the name. “Could I ask you a favour?”

 

Kiku blinked at him questioningly before nodding.

 

“Um… let’s see. Could you…” He turned fully to face Kiku. “Could you keep an eye on Im - just for a week or two, until he settles in at the school?”

 

Kiku paused. Was this meant to be his punishment for ramming into Kirkland on the stairs? “...How do you mean, ‘keep an eye on him’?”

 

“I mean…” Kirkland gesticulated. “Perhaps by going around his house every morning and making sure he turns up to school on time? ...If it’s not too much trouble, of course.”

 

Kiku looked down. “Well… I don’t know his address…”

 

“Then could you ask him for it? I mean -” Kirkland laughed “- it wouldn’t be good to do all this without his consent, would it?”

 

Kiku nodded. “I suppose.”

 

Kirkland exhaled a pent-up breath. “Thank you very much, Honda.” He inclined his head in an awkward-looking bow as Kiku looked on, somewhat baffled. “And… I can make it worth your while, I promise. You can ask for anything, just… keep it within reason, okay? Unfortunately I won’t be able to re-mark your tests for you or change up your grades… but anything else should be fine.”

 

 _Anything…?_ Kiku wondered. Was this guy serious? Or did he just have no idea what he was doing?

 

Kiku was strongly beginning to suspect the latter.

 

“Well… I’m sorry for keeping you. I made you stay the longest, even though you didn’t do anything wrong…” Kirkland chuckled nervously. “Make sure you eat, okay? I’ll be seeing you again on… let’s see…” He picked up one of the many myriad notebooks on his desk and began riffing through it. “...Wednesday afternoon. So in the meantime, enjoy your lunch!”

 

A couple of seconds later, Kiku was out in the hallway, closing the classroom door behind him and wondering what on Earth had just happened.

 

He had no idea what to make of Kirkland. He couldn’t decide if he was a good teacher or a terrible one. Or maybe it was all some sort of act. Or perhaps that was just an example of normal teaching practice in England? Either way, it was utterly bizarre.

 

Kiku decided to forget about it for now and take Kirkland’s advice. As for the favour involving Im… well, he supposed he’d just cross that bridge when he got there.

 

He was about to turn down the corridor when an all-too familiar call rang out behind him.

 

“Hey, Kiku!”

 

Said student turned to find Ryouichi leaning against the wall outside his classroom. “I was waiting ages!” he exclaimed. “What happened in there?”

 

“Oh, um…” Kiku wondered if it was possible for him to condense the events of the past hour into a single sentence. “We had the new teacher.”

 

Ryouichi blinked, interested. “There’s a new teacher?”

 

“Yeah. He’s from England.”

 

“Seriously?” Ryouichi uttered in disbelief. After Kiku nodded, the other boy grimaced. “Well, at least that explains things.”

 

Kiku hesitated. “I’m… I’m going to eat lunch outside today.”

 

Ryouichi perked. “Alright then, I’ll come with you. My classroom’s a bit stuffy today, to be honest.”

 

Kiku resisted the urge to sigh. No matter how hard he tried, he simply couldn’t avoid Ryouichi for long. Perhaps he should just give up trying.

 

It wasn’t that he disliked the other’s company. Far from it, in fact; but Ryouichi was far more perceptive than he often let on, and he’d spent enough time with Kiku to understand him on a nonverbal level. And the moment Ryouichi suspected there was something wrong, he already knew too much.

 

For after the knowledge there would come the questions, and Kiku wanted those least of all.

 

*****

 

After a round trip of the school grounds, during which Ryouichi recounted the story of his own morning classes (which mainly consisted of griping about the attention Nikoniko received for his seemingly superhuman intellectualism), they found the last empty picnic bench swamped in sunlight. The heat still had yet to kick into full gear, so it was a welcome thought to not have to be shivering in the shade. Ryouichi brushed off the fallen cherry petals as they both set their lunches down on the table.

 

Ryouichi made a show of hugging his forearms. “Ack, it’s so cold today! Last I checked the calendar, I was sure it was April!”

 

Kiku smiled. “You always were sensitive to the cold, weren’t you?” He scooped up a mouthful of rice with his chopsticks. “Didn’t you tell me it was an ‘Osaka thing’?”

 

“Did I? It sure as hell never got this cold in Osaka,” Ryouichi complained.

 

“ _Annyeong_ , boys!”

 

Both students jumped on their seats as they turned to face the designer brand-clad teenager that had sidled up to them.

 

“Wuh -” Ryouichi almost choked on a mouthful of sausage. “Who-who the hell are you?!” He sat poised with his chopsticks, ready to retaliate if the other boy got too close.

 

Im folded his arms and pouted. “What’s with that reaction? I’m a student here, just like you two.” He turned to Kiku. “Honda here can back me up. Can’t you, Honda-chan?”

 

Kiku blinked, startled. “...Ch-chan?!”

 

Im smirked. “Aww. You’re so cute when you’re startled.” And, before Kiku could think to do anything else, Im stepped over and sat down next to Kiku - _right_ next to him, leaving barely a centimetre of space between them. When he spoke again, Kiku could feel Im’s breath on his cheek. “Hey, what was your given name again? Koichi?”

 

“Kiku,” Kiku corrected, trying hard to concentrate on his lunch and not on the boy who was far too close for his comfort.

 

“Ah! Kiku-chan it is!” He slung an arm around Kiku’s shoulders and pulled him in, closing the gap between them to nothing. “That’s just adorable. It suits you perfectly, y’know?”

 

“Im-san…” Kiku flailed. “I can’t breathe…”

 

Ryouichi, meanwhile, was looking on, utterly horrified. It took a moment for what was happening to fully sink in, but when it did, he snapped.

 

“G-get off my friend, you pervert!” he yelled, inadvertently attracting the attention of a group of boys standing next to the nearby vending machine.

 

Im stopped smothering Kiku, but kept a steadfast grip on his shoulder. He glared at Ryouichi in something like mock disbelief. “ _Your_ friend?” he muttered incredulously. “That simply can’t be the case. Because -” Im wrapped his arms around Kiku’s torso, grabbing the folds of his uniform shirt. “ - Kiku-chan’s breasts belong to _me.”_

 

“Um, Im-san, I don’t have any -” Kiku started.

 

“You…” Ryouichi’s hand was a blur as it shot out and seized the top of Im’s T-shirt. His other fist was drawn back, ready to punch.

 

Im quickly let go of Kiku and held up his hands placatingly, his features breaking into a goofy grin. “Hey, hey, it was just a joke! Just a joke!”

 

“You were _molesting_ him!” Ryouichi growled. “You call that a joke?!”

 

“Ryou, let go of him,” Kiku intervened, smoothing down his shirt as he caught his breath.

 

Ryouichi looked at him as though he had gone mad before reluctantly releasing Im, who proceeded to swiftly back away.

 

“It’s okay,” Im muttered, shrugging. “I know when I’m not wanted. So I’ll just leave you two boys to your fun.” And he left, though not before passing a suggestive wink in Kiku’s direction.

 

“Ugh. Who the hell _was_ that guy?” Ryouichi demanded as soon as Im was out of earshot.

 

“He’s, um, in my new class. He’s an exchange student from Korea,” Kiku added.

 

Ryouichi snorted. “Figures.”

 

Kiku blinked. “Hold on, Ryou.” He had just remembered.

 

Ryouichi’s eyes narrowed. “Where are you going now?” he demanded as Kiku jumped out of his seat.

 

“Just forgot something. I’ll be right back,” he assured, and dashed off before Ryouichi could utter any further words of protest.

 

Kiku caught up with Im as he rounded the corner of the main campus building. The other teen immediately stopped and turned round as Kiku shouted, “Im-san!”

 

Im allowed Kiku the two seconds necessary to catch his breath before fixing him with a questioning stare.

 

“Kirkland-sensei asked me to, um, look out for you.” Those weren’t the right words, but they were out of Kiku’s mouth before he could change them. “I mean, er, he wants me to try and get you to start coming in on time by… coming round your house every morning and…” He trailed off.

 

Im’s eyes narrowed in disgust. “ _Nappeun nom_. Man, what a shitty teacher. He can’t tell me what to do, so he pushes his responsibility onto one of his students? How does he expect anyone to respect him?”

 

“Still...” Kiku rubbed the back of his head. “If you don’t come in on time, they’ll have to eventually expel you.”

 

Im balked. “They will?”

 

Kiku blinked at his reaction. “What, you didn’t know?”

 

“Ahh, well,” Im broke his gaze. “I wouldn’t really know… Before today, I was basically always homeschooled…” He folded his arms. “I thought high school would be like how it’s shown in all the anime and dramas, but it looks like it isn’t.”

 

“Wait, wait.” Kiku couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You started coming to high school because of that?”

 

Im chortled. “Haha, only partially. My main reason is that it’s an excuse to get away from my parents for a year.” He shrugged. “Hopefully a lifetime.”

 

“...Ah. I understand.” For once, Kiku wasn’t just saying that - for that just so happened to be a problem he was all too familiar with. “I’d… probably do the same, if I was able.”

 

Im looked at him for a moment, seemingly contemplative, and then sighed. “Okay then, teacher’s pet. I’ll agree to your stupid little venture - on one condition.”

 

Kiku held his breath, fearing the worst. “Yes?”

 

Im smirked devilishly. “You have to call me ‘Onii-san’ for the rest of the year.”

 

“No,” Kiku stated flatly as Im burst into peals of laughter.

 

“Just kidding!” Im paused momentarily to wipe his mouth as he recovered. “Well, anyway. Give me your number and I’ll text you my address. I live about a fifteen minute walk from the school, so you can show up at quarter to nine.” He paused, pulling out his phone, and his eyes narrowed as he turned on Kiku again. “No sooner than that, though. I need my beauty sleep.”

 

“Wha - wait just a second,” Kiku protested. “If that’s the time you _wake up,_ then how are you going to have enough time to get ready?”

 

Im considered that point. “Oh, yeah.” He pouted. “I usually take about an hour and a half in the bath, then I have breakfast, and then…” He groaned in realisation. “I really don’t want to get up at six in the morning…”

 

Kiku pursed his lips. “Well… you could always have a shorter bath -”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Im looked genuinely affronted by that notion. “I’ll… tell you what, I’ll sleep on it, okay? And call you in the morning. What’s your number again?”

 

Kiku rang off his number and Im inputted it into his phone, grinning as he did so. “It’s a date, Kiku-chan!”

 

“Please don’t use that term…” Kiku pleaded.

 

“Okay! _Najung-e boja_!” Im called as he bounded off into the distance cheerily.

 

Kiku watched him go as the boughs of the cherry tree above him continued to rain petals down onto his head.

 

_What am I getting myself into now?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Korean is courtesy of Google Translate:  
> -Najung-e boja = see you later  
> -Nappeun nom = bastard (literally meaning something along the lines of "bad guy")
> 
> And thus the plot thickens; Kiku has his first doki-doki moment with Arthur. Don't be fooled by the comedic tone though; I assure you, this fic is heading towards some truly dark places.


	4. Non-Uniformity

**[2nd April, 201X]**

 

Kiku awoke to the sound of the door slamming with such force that it could have easily been mistaken for an earthquake.

 

But Kiku knew better. Only his mother was furious enough to make such a sound whenever she left the house the morning after she’d lost an argument with her husband.

 

They’d been arguing over the dinner table as they had every day for the past few months; and, as always, it had started with something petty. Kiku’s father had begun by complaining that the rice was overcooked, and so his mother responded immediately by challenging him to see if _he_ could do any better. This had escalated into a full-on verbal battle within the space of less than a minute as each party insisted that they were the one who contributed the most to the household, and thus were most deserving of its privileges. Then, naturally, the conversation had turned to the place Kiku least wanted it to go - the source of all their problems.

 

Their marriage.

 

Or, perhaps more accurately - the reason why they had married in the first place. The proverbial elephant in the room; the thing they liked to refer to as their ‘drunken mistake’.

 

Kiku could sense already that he was going to get caught in the crossfire of this battle, and attempted to leave discreetly to finish off his dinner in the relative comfort of his bedroom. Before he could do so, however, his father grabbed him by the shoulder and hauled him back to the table.

 

From then on, Kiku’s memories were blurred; he couldn’t even remember who said what. All the frenzied yells seemed to blend together.

 

_“Don’t you dare act like you’re not part of this problem, young man.”_

 

_“We married so we could bring you up properly, and this is how you repay us?”_

 

_“You didn’t skip cram school today, did you? Your grades haven’t improved since October last year! Isn’t this your final year? You have to get your act together!”_

 

_“Answer me, you little brat!”_

 

Kiku winced. His cheek still ached from the impact - it was the hardest his parents had hit him since he was in primary school.

 

He couldn’t pinpoint an exact moment at which his parents had started detesting each other so vehemently. They had always had their little spats here and there, but following the new year their arguments had increased in intensity, frequency and duration. Kiku didn’t know why. He didn’t want to know why.

 

He wished he were invisible.

 

He turned over on his bed, twisting the covers further around him. His makeshift cocoon was the only warm place left on Earth. Everywhere else was mortally frigid - he had no care for it. If he was safe and warm - that was all that mattered.

 

He caught sight of his pale features in the darkness of his TV screen, surrounded as it was by haphazard piles of video games like worshippers about a shrine. His once-immaculate room had descended into entropy, and he, the biggest mess of them all, lay at its centre. His reflected features seemed more haggard than he remembered; his eyes duller, his hair more tousled.

 

Kiku covered his head with the duvet and resumed pretending that the outside world didn’t exist.

 

However, only a few seconds later, Hatsune Miku’s voice rang out from his phone amidst insistent buzzing. Kiku blinked, wondering who could possibly be calling him at this time in the morning.

 

He picked up. “Hello…?” he answered uncertainly.

 

“Oh, _annyeong_ , Kiku-chan!” greeted an instantly familiar voice. “I’m going to need your help here, so come down as quick as you can, okay?”

 

“...Im-san?” Kiku sat up blearily.

 

You could practically hear the pout in Im’s voice. “Who else? It’s not like you have any friends beside that foul-mouthed brunette, right?”

 

It wasn’t spoken like an insult, but Kiku found it difficult not to take offence from - especially as, in this case, it was true. So he swallowed thickly and continued as though Im hadn’t spoken.

 

“Um, so… what’s the problem?”

 

Im giggled nervously. “Well, uh… it’s my school uniform…” He trailed off.

 

“Yes…? What about it?”

 

“Just… just get over here already - I’ll text you my address! Help a guy out! C’mon, you promised! And I don’t want to be expelled!”

 

Before Kiku’s ears even had time to recover from that tirade, Im had already hung up.

 

He slumped back onto his pillow, staring at the ceiling in bemusement. _What is with that guy?_

 

He didn’t really want to know the answer, if he was honest - but he couldn’t bring himself to break a promise either. This was, after all, a favour from one of his teachers - and he’d come too far as to back out now.

 

So he mustered all his remaining motivation and rolled out of bed.

 

For breakfast, he swamped a single slice of toast with jam - but decided he couldn’t stomach it after a single bite and threw the rest in the bin. He shrugged into his school uniform, grabbed his bag and paused to pet the slumbering Pochi before leaving the house. He paused to gaze out from the balcony of his apartment block - sunshine was blazing once again on the urban garden of springtime Tokyo.

 

It was a beauty Kiku could no longer appreciate.

 

As he stepped down to street level, Kiku glanced at his phone’s messages. Sure enough, he’d received a new text detailing an address about five minutes’ walk from Kiku’s neighbourhood - only it was interspersed with so many emojis that it took a moment for Kiku to decipher it.

 

 _Honestly,_ Kiku thought, _does he need to put that many Lenny faces into a single text?_

 

At least there were no new texts from Ryouichi - thankfully. Kiku had told him after school the previous day that he was running an errand for one of his neighbours in the morning, and so wouldn’t have time to meet up. The brunette had reluctantly accepted, though Kiku could tell from the subtle exasperation in his voice that Ryouichi simply thought Kiku was just trying to avoid him again.

 

Which was definitely part of it - although this time, not the full reason.

 

*****

 

As Kiku stood staring at what was apparently Im’s apartment, he found himself checking his phone’s GPS map once again to make sure.

 

The building itself was located in what appeared to be an unofficial waste disposal site. Flies swarmed across bin bags strewn across a square of desolate concrete, weeds poking through the mouths of empty beer cans and entwining themselves around empty syringes. A group of squat apartments were positioned above a rather melancholy former cosplay store whose cat-eared mascot still leapt happily from the boarded-up windows.

 

It was a cul-de-sac that the rest of the city had forgot. Kiku couldn’t help but think that it would be a perfect place for a yakuza safe house - those dark windows looked almost as though they had been designed to conceal weapon caches and assorted drugs from the watchful eye of any police happening to walk by.

 

Kiku walked up the iron staircase to the apartments warily, half expecting a beefy tattoo-covered man to jump out from behind a dustbin and put a gun to his face. Instead, he reached Im’s door with no issues and tried the bell.

 

There was a silent interval in which Kiku was aware only of the hammering of his heart in his chest. And then, the door swung inward.

 

Kiku blinked, struggling to compose himself while faced with the sight before him.

 

Im was wearing a sailor uniform. No, not just any sailor uniform - the sort that only existed in the realm of anime, with a skirt that exposed much of the other boy’s thighs and a top cut to just above his abdomen, showing his skinny stomach for all the world to see.

 

After a pause, Im made a show of pulling self-consciously at his skirt and arching his back against the doorframe. “D-don’t stare at me like that, pervert!” he squealed, and, upon noticing Kiku’s reaction, grinned. “So, how do you like my tsundere schoolgirl act, eh, Kiku-chan?”

 

Kiku backed up onto the balcony railing, struggling to find words to respond to that.

 

Im sighed and folded his arms across his chest. “Look, this is the closest thing to a school uniform I have, okay? ...I’m not quite sure how, but I lost my actual uniform and didn’t realise until yesterday. Kinda embarrassing, huh?”

 

“B-but you can’t wear that,” Kiku pointed out. “They’ll just send you home… Not even the girls at our school are allowed to wear sailor uniforms -”

 

“I know that!” Im interrupted angrily.

 

“Why… why do you have that, anyway?” Kiku asked, though he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer.

 

“Cosplay, duh!” Im gave another of his characteristic pouts. “Anyway, don’t you have a spare I could borrow?”

 

“...I guess, although we’d be late if I headed home right now…” Kiku murmured, glancing at his phone’s time display.

 

Im suddenly launched forward, grabbing Kiku’s shoulders. His face, once again too close to Kiku’s, was contorted wildly in panic. “Please, Kiku-chan! I’ll be expelled otherwise, and then… I don’t know what I’d do!”

 

“Ah… um… sure,” Kiku muttered. “Just… ah… could you… stop calling me Kiku-chan?”

 

Im let go of him and pulled back, pouting. “Are you saying you don’t want to be friends with me anymore, Kiku-chan?”

 

Kiku was confused. Did Im seriously consider what they had a friendship? Then again, he supposed that wasn’t really a stretch, considering all of his other odd behaviours. “No,” he replied carefully, “it’s just that… unless it’s used between _close_ friends who have known each other for a while, ‘chan’ is… well it’s kind of… sort of… demeaning.”

 

Im blinked. “It is?!”

 

Kiku suppressed a sigh. “Im-san, I hate to ask this but… did you really learn all your Japanese just from watching anime?”

 

“No!” Im fiercely denied. “I also learnt some from manga, video games and TV dramas!”

 

“...I see. But can you, um, call me Honda-san from now on? At least until we maybe know each other a little better?”

 

Im folded his arms. “Fine then, Honda-chan.”

 

Kiku didn’t press any further - that was probably as close as he was going to get. “Well, um, I guess I’ll just wait for you out here while you get ready, then.”

 

Im looked perplexed. “I _am_ ready,” he insisted.

 

“You don’t think…” Kiku suggested slowly, “... you should maybe change into something… else?”

 

“Why?” Im gave him an exasperated look. “I’m borrowing your school uniform, right?” With that, he stepped out onto his front porch and pulled the door shut behind him.

 

Kiku exhaled. _Looks as though there’s no reasoning with him…_

 

*****

 

Kiku decided to take the less conspicuous route back to his home, which involved navigating through several seedy-looking alleyways - but, all things considered, was well worth it. At least he’d save on the number of bewildered stares shot by Im’s - and by extension Kiku’s - way.

 

This all meant that they were ten minutes late to school, but luckily enough their homeroom teacher, the droning bore Satomi-sensei, was the type to simply forgive and forget. Quite unlike Kirkland, who seemed to relish roasting late students as they walked in through the door.

 

Im was almost like a completely different person that morning. Of course, he was still as irreverent as before, making melodramatic complaints and inappropriate commentary at every turn - but it seemed much more like a comedy routine and much less like a delinquent trying to show up his teachers. He even got a few scattered laughs from the other students.

 

It was hard for Kiku to relax with such a circus performance going on in the desk next to him, but it was at least a step up from the painful awkwardness of yesterday morning. And with Im grabbing all the attention, none of it was ever displaced onto Kiku.

 

When the lunchtime bell rang, however, Im’s first action was to lean right over the divide between their two desks and pull Kiku in by the shoulder. “Honda-chan~! Are you gonna take me on a grand tour?”

 

“Grand tour?” Kiku questioned as he proceeded to gently extract himself from the other’s embrace.

 

“Yeah!” Im gesticulated widely with his hands. “You can take me around, show me what sort of clubs you have here!”

 

“That’s what you want to know… ?” If he was honest, Kiku didn’t think of Im as the type who’d be interested in joining any clubs.“Well, um… I’m not really involved in any clubs, so I don’t know all that much about them… Ryou might know more. He was a member of the Cooking Club last year.”

 

“Seriously?” Im looked dubious. “You’re telling me that hothead can cook?”

 

Kiku managed a smile. “He’s honestly really good. And he knows the recipes of loads of Osaka specialities - handed down through the family line, he told me.”

 

“Hmm.” Im still didn’t look convinced as they traversed the corridors, heading in no particular direction. “Don’t you have an anime club or something?”

 

“Oh, sure,” Kiku replied, nodding. “It’s just that… um, well…” He glanced vaguely out of a window into the pastel-pink sea beyond. “They don’t really do much in terms of club activities. The club’s just an excuse to hang around after school reading manga.”

 

“What’s wrong with that?” Im sounded defensive.

 

Kiku blinked at his reaction. “Nothing, of course. It’s just that some clubs are more motivated than others... The Music Club, for example, is really strict. If you skip even one practice you get kicked out, no questions asked.”

 

“Whoa. Harsh,” Im commented, his eyebrows raised.

 

They had hit the April sun of the outer courtyard. A breeze was blowing, scattering the petals in a soft whirlwind. Kiku stopped suddenly, noticing Ryouichi.

 

The brunette was sat on a low wall beside another boy whom Kiku vaguely recognised as a former member of his second-year class. What was his name again - Takeuchi? Or Takaguchi? Something along those lines.

 

Ryouichi looked up as they approached. His face broke into a warm smile as he noticed Kiku, but the moment his eyes switched to Im that smile rapidly contorted into a grimace. He stood up.

 

“Kiku, what are you doing with _him?”_ he demanded, gesturing offhandedly at Im.

 

Im bristled. “ _Him?_ Watch who you’re talking about there, buddy. For _I -”_ he made a grand sweeping motion which he finished by clasping Kiku at the shoulder “- am Honda-chan’s _new_ best friend.”

 

“What…” Ryouichi, his fists quivering with suppressed rage, turned to Kiku. “Did he kidnap you or something? Did he molest you? Did he go further than that? I swear, if he -”

 

Kiku held his hands up placatingly - a hard task to accomplish considering he was also trying to extract himself from Im’s iron grip at the same time. “No! Of course not,” he protested. “That one time, Im was only messing around. And I’m just helping him out.”

 

“Why?” Ryouichi jabbed. “What could you possibly get out of it?”

 

Kiku thought of the favour that was vaguely promised him by Kirkland and decided he shouldn’t mention it. “He’s lost and confused. I’m… I’m just helping him settle in.”

 

Ryouichi made a face that clearly communicated he wasn’t buying it. “So you really are friends with him now, then?”

 

“Well -” Kiku was about to answer, but Im swiftly cut him off.

 

“D’you think he’d be hanging around with me if we weren’t friends?” Im stated in a tone that suggested such reasoning was plainly obvious.

 

Ryouichi broke eye contact. He stopped quivering, and instead stood as still as a statue. Kiku cringed - that wasn’t a good sign.

 

“Right. Okay then. Well, if you really don’t want me around, Kiku, then do as you like. Just -” he breathed inward sharply “- don’t talk to me for a while.”

 

It took all of Kiku’s willpower in that moment not to reel as though he had been punched in the gut. Because that was how he felt. He’d been branded the betrayer.

 

Ryouichi walked briskly past him, followed by his friend, who cast a suspicious glance over the two of them.

 

Kiku swallowed. His throat stang with the motion.

 

Im thumped him in the back - and although the gesture was meant to be an act of friendliness, Kiku only felt hard pain. “Hey, Honda-chan. Don’t sweat it. Who needs a friend like that anyways? I bet he needs you a hell of a lot more than you need him.”

 

Kiku couldn’t even muster the strength to get mad at Im; he felt completely empty in that moment. There was nothing inside him to anger, no boiling emotion to rise up from his gut. He could only turn over his shoulder and watch Ryouichi go, wondering just how true Im’s statement really was.

 

*****

 

“Oh! Honda - just a moment!”

 

The foreign accent in the voice was subtle, but enough to give Kiku pause as he navigated the corridors of the hometime rush hour. He looked up to see Kirkland, staggering somewhat ineffectually against the tide of students headed home, to club meetings, to cram school, or to late afternoon outings with friends. When he finally caught up to Kiku, the tall blond brushed his messy fringe out of his eyes and gave a short exhale. He smiled awkwardly down at him.

 

“Can I have a word? ...Maybe this isn’t the best place - perhaps you should come to the staff room?”

 

And so Kiku did - trying his best to keep his distance from the curious stares and idle gossip that followed Kirkland wherever he went.

 

The staff room was half-empty, and the remaining teachers kept their heads stuck in their work as Kirkland entered. Kiku was somewhat surprised to see that Kirkland’s desk was near as messy as his hair, and dispersed with talisman-like oddities that looked as though they belonged in a museum. Kirkland casually pulled up a chair from the adjacent desk and motioned for Kiku to sit in it.

 

Kirkland steepled his fingers. His apprehension was covered up badly by the same awkward smile from before.

 

“So,” he began, keeping his voice down in an almost conspiratorial fashion, “about that… thing… yesterday… I just wanted to let you know that it was irresponsible of me. I really shouldn’t be sending a student to do a teacher’s job…”

 

“It’s fine, Sensei,” Kiku replied mildly. “I managed to get Im-san to come to school, and let him borrow my spare uniform for today. It wasn’t much of a problem.”

 

Kirkland seemed to scrutinise his face for a moment, as though trying to figure out whether he was telling the truth. “You… did it, then?” he uttered in frank surprise.

 

Kiku simply nodded.

 

Kirkland blinked, clearly baffled. “Well, in that case, then… thank you, Honda. You’ve been a great help already. It seems Im’s willing to listen to you.”

 

There was a long pause during which Kirkland averted his gaze off to the side and stroked his chin in careful thought. Kiku found himself watching the steady motion of Kirkland’s Adam’s apple as he breathed.

 

“And, erm, about that favour,” Kirkland murmured. “I, uh, well. Since you’ve already… I mean, you can ask. Anything you want.”

 

“Anything?” Kiku asked.

 

“Anything,” Kirkland confirmed.

 

Kiku shifted in his seat. He had the distinct impression that he wanted _something,_ though he didn’t really know quite what. Did he want Ryouichi’s approval back? Well, yes, but he wasn’t going to ask that of Kirkland. It would probably be beyond his means anyway. But other than that… nothing. Nothing but a profound longing that was just a feeling, with no person or object or sensation yet attached.

 

“I… I don’t really know,” Kiku admitted.

 

Kirkland was mildly surprised. “You don’t? Well, that’s fair enough, I suppose. If you ever think of anything I can possibly help you out with, then I guess you know where to find me.” He smiled in a way that looked like it pained him.

 

Kiku hastily thanked Kirkland and took his leave, returning to the now-empty school corridors.

 

He felt his face flush in the emptiness, but wasn’t sure why. He was filled with the same confusing cocktail of feelings that he’d felt after his last one-to-one interaction with Kirkland. Along with a new emotion, this one a bit more subtle. Was it curiosity? He supposed that made sense - Kirkland’s status as a literal foreign entity, in addition to his somewhat baffling behaviour, practically begged curiosity.

 

Was this the feeling he was chasing? Was this why he had helped out Im? What on earth did he _want?_

 

Kiku shook his head. Thinking about it at length probably wasn’t a good idea - and if he didn’t head off soon, he was going to be late to cram school. And if he was late to cram school, he only had his parents’ wrath to look forward to when he returned home.

 

So he turned out of the corridor, headed down the stairs, picked up his outdoor shoes from the locker room and left the building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really know what else to say for this one, but yeah. This is more or less our first step into the void. Thanks again a whole bunch for reading this far, and please tell me what you think!  
> I'm planning to update this monthly, so expect the next chapter around the 25th October. I'll post sooner if possible, though because I'm starting university now I'll probably be fairly busy from now on.  
> In any case, see you in the next one!


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